The groans from Shay’s stiff legs eased as he ran. The garda helicopter circled overhead. Lightpoles and railings vibrated when it hovered low; the pressure eased when it swerved away.
Shay approached MacBride Road. The area was cordoned off. Screens and a blue tent had been erected where the garda’s body still lay. He noticed the vans of the Technical Bureau and watched the white-clad figures. Some were crouched low, studying the area where the bodies were found and placing numbered markers at intervals. Others took detailed photographs to map the scene. The movements were careful, deliberate, methodical. Their professionalism, to Shay, was reassuring. To him, they seemed to operate in a slowed-down version of time. It was at odds with the hopping and jostling of the local kids. Some of the younger ones gathered at the flapping garda cordon, while older boys huddled in groups, clasping cigarettes and phones. Shay spotted a few mobile TV units parked up. Reporters traipsed around despondently, trying to find someone willing to talk to them.
Good luck around here, he thought.
When he got home, Lisa gave him a big hug. It caught him off guard. He melted at the warmth of her body, the closeness of her, a sensation he really missed.
‘Jesus, Shay, you okay?’ she asked, looking at him, her face etched with concern and shock. ‘It’s just awful.’
He stepped into the sitting room, just as the ad break finished on the television and a news programme came on.
‘This place is going to hell,’ Lisa said.
The presenter was outside Garda HQ, looking grave.
‘A shocking new low in gangland. A ten-year-old girl and young female garda are dead and a second garda is fighting for his life after a shooting along Dublin’s Grand Canal. In a joint statement, just released, the Justice Minister and the Garda Commissioner pledged that no stone would be left unturned in bringing the perpetrators to justice.’
The presenter took a breath and deepened his tone as he continued.
‘Tonight, in what has already been called a Veronica Guerin moment . . .’
Lisa pointed to the mantelpiece, where Shay had left his mobile.
‘Your phone rang,’ she said, ‘several times.’